Maelstrom? Is that what they call You these days? I can never keep track.

I wanted an apology for killing me out of turn and without any cause. I wanted You to take responsibility for Your unjust actions. You asked me a question aloud after I had a private thought to myself - a thought that had no bearing on You - and when your question baffled me with its seemingly ignorant assumptions of mortal struggles, I asked if You sincerely wanted me to answer it. I asked this because I had taken You for a reasonable, wise and thoughtful God. The sort of God that would not wittingly insult an entire room full of Enorianites through condescendingly belittling the difficulty in learning how to be proficient in combat. I assumed you meant well.

I was sorely mistaken.

Instead of an apology for the wrong against me, You have seen fit to divert responsibility by publicly blaming every woman who has fallen to death and lost an unborn in the process of personally being at fault for the death of their unborn.

Don't get me wrong, I'm annoyed that I'll have to restart that whole crotchfruit growing process. It's time consuming. But I am mostly angry that you thought a genuine question and the private thought I'd had that "if combat were easier to learn, more people would do it" was cause to slaughter a woman who had merely stumbled upon your conversation when she came to the Flame to await sunrise: trying to improve herself in the Light.

I await your apology.

Penned by my hand on Closday, the 13th of Severin, in the year 474 MA.